


Losing It

by LizzieCarlton



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Blow Jobs, Clubbing, Dancing, First Time, Frottage, M/M, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 07:02:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/876970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizzieCarlton/pseuds/LizzieCarlton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young Mycroft Holmes steps out of the rain and ends up in a nightclub. Whilst there he is seduced by an eager, leather clad Gregory Lestrade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Losing It

Mycroft did not frequent nightclubs. He was only in this one to get out of the rain. On his way back from a late night session at the library, the drops had started falling on the pavement. Slowly at first… and then harder, until the light shower became a torrential downpour, soaking him from head to foot. His hair hung in wet, dripping curls around his forehead and his bespoke suit was steaming in the heat of the room. This was the last time he would forget his umbrella.

The room was crowded and hot. A strong stench of alcohol filled the air and the floor was unpleasantly sticky under foot. Everywhere writhing bodies twisted against each other, distorted by the flashing lights suspended above the dance floor. On closer inspection Mycroft realised they were all men. He hovered uncertainly in the doorway, a steady blush rising in his cheeks. Knowing he should leave, he stepped forwards into the room, weaving his way towards the bar.

He’d have one drink whilst the rain stopped.

Easing his way through the crowd, he ordered a drink from an intoxicated, topless barman and retreated into a corner to sip at it. The alcohol burnt his throat, leaving a bitter aftertaste in his mouth and the pounding of music in his ears was almost unbearable. A couple of metres away from him, two men were dancing. He watched curiously as they wound themselves more tightly together, their lips brushing and their hips grinding. Both were tall and dark, the kind of men he’d have to tell himself not to look twice at in the street. Their lips met more powerfully, finally crushing together and Mycroft looked away, gulping at his drink. His head was beginning to feel pleasantly fuzzy and the alcohol no longer tasted so bad. Instead it left a warm feeling inside his stomach.

A laugh from behind him attracted his attention, and he turned to see a man in a leather jacket eyeing him up curiously. He looked nervously around for an escape route, assessing his chances of making it through the wall of bodies. Before he could move, the man had approached him and then he found he no longer wanted to. The stranger looked several years older than him, yet his eyes had a youthful sparkle. His hair was roughly tousled and a rich chocolate brown. On closer inspection, his leather jacket was battered and worn whilst his close fitting jeans were faded with age.

‘Enjoying the show?’ the man asked him. He was also watching the two dancers kissing, and apparently thoroughly appreciating it.

‘I’m not watching,’ Mycroft said. The stranger leaned in to hear what he was saying.

‘Oh,’ the man grinned at his response. He nodded and winked. ‘Of course not. Can I get you another drink?’

Looking down in surprise, Mycroft was alarmed to discover he had already finished his first. He set the plastic cup to one side and paused uncertainly, glancing towards the door. It probably hadn’t stopped raining. He nodded slowly. ‘Yes please.’

Looking amused by his response, the man offered his hand. ‘Greg,’ he said in introduction.

‘Mycroft,’ Mycroft said, taking the hand. The man had a strong, warm grip which lasted rather longer than he had expected.

In fact, it didn’t end at all. Keeping a tight grip of his hand, Greg turned around and led him across the room, guiding him gently through the crowds and ushering him up to the bar. He pressed Mycroft in front and stood behind him. Mycroft found himself leaning unintentionally backwards as firm hands landed on his hips and Greg rested his chin on his shoulder as he placed their order. His warmth radiated through his jacket and into Mycroft’s back.

‘You like that?’ he asked Mycroft, as the barman disappeared.

‘Yes,’ Mycroft murmured, meeting the man’s eye for one terrifying second.

‘Good,’ Greg smiled, pulling away and taking their drinks from the barman. He handed one to Mycroft. ‘I like to think I have good judgement.’

It was only then that Mycroft realised the man hadn’t been asking about the embrace. He took a reluctant sip of the drink, which he in fact did _not_ like, and wondered why he was allowing himself to be seduced. This had not been his plan for the evening. He had his first exam at the University tomorrow.

Greg downed his drink in one, and watched him sip his in idle amusement, slouched against the bar with a smirk on his lips. He leaned in and peered into the cup to see how much Mycroft had drunk. Looking up, he was suddenly much closer and one of his hands had made its way back onto Mycroft’s hip. He smiled crookedly. ‘Are you gonna dance with me?’

‘I can’t dance,’ Mycroft explained, finishing his drink. Placing the empty cup back on the bar he was suddenly at a loss of what to do with his hands. He clasped them awkwardly together in front of him and tried very hard not to look at Greg.

‘That’s alright,’ Greg shrugged. One of his hands slipped under Mycroft’s jacket and tugged playfully at the shirt underneath. ‘I can.’

The once lurid lights of the room had transformed into a pleasant medley of dazzling colour, and Mycroft found himself transfixed by the man leading him onto the dance floor. So much so, that it was only once they were on there that he began to panic. He looked around uncertainly for a clue as to what he should be doing. Surrounding them were couples pressed tightly together, rubbing against each other rather than dancing. Surely Greg didn’t expect him to do _that_.

The man slid his arms around Mycroft’s waist, pulling him in closer, until their bodies met from head to toe. Ah. Apparently he did.

They were so close that Mycroft could inhale the sweet tobacco smell of Greg’s jacket, and more distractingly, feel the rough grind of his jeans. Through the thin fabric of his suit trousers, the sensation had an intensely arousing effect and Mycroft found himself leaning his head on the man’s shoulder, unmoving, as Greg rubbed up against him. His breathing growing heavier, he wound his arms around the man’s neck, pressing back into him. Greg’s mouth was inches from his ear, and hot breath ghosted against it. Mycroft found himself staring at the man’s neck. He had come to the alarming realisation that he wanted to sink his teeth into it.

He noted dizzily that his partner’s hands had begun to wander, pushing underneath his suit jacket once more in order to caress his back. They slipped lower and Mycroft was hit by the fact that this was the closest he had ever been to another person. His breathing turned into soft whimpers which, though he knew were embarrassing, he found impossible to control.

Greg pulled his head back to look at him, leaving their bodies still crushed together. His bright eyes had turned surprisingly dark and he licked his lips, turning his head invitingly to one side.

Mycroft wasn’t sure this was the wisest choice for a first kiss, but he found himself gravitating towards the man’s mouth, wetting his own lips as he did so. He leaned in until their foreheads were resting together, before pausing for one last breath. Greg was kissing him before he could take it, one hand on Mycroft’s jaw, the other now firmly on his arse. His mouth pressed demandingly against Mycroft’s and he nipped at his lower lip.

Groaning into the kiss, Mycroft tightened his hold of the man. He was vaguely aware that having his arse groped in the middle of a nightclub was not the most dignified state of affairs… and yet, he couldn’t quite bring himself to care. With growing enthusiasm, he opened his lips and let the older man’s tongue slide in. The man explored his mouth in a way which caused a dark heat to start coiling within him. His cock twitched and he realised with a low moan that he was fully hard. Apparently Greg had realised too, because he had now been backed into a wall. Suddenly they were off the dance floor and were rutting against each other as they kissed.

Greg bit down on his lower lip one more time, before pulling back just far enough to speak. ‘Want to find somewhere quiet?’ he asked against Mycroft’s lips.

Mycroft turned his head away, fruitlessly attempting to gather his thoughts. Of course Greg would want to have sex with him. That was why the man was here. That was why everyone was here. Apart from Mycroft. Or maybe that was why he was here too. He wasn’t quite sure.

Greg had released him but was pulling on his sleeve, his lips wet and swollen.  ‘C’mon,’ he shouted over the music.

It didn’t take long for Mycroft to make his decision. His mind might not have known what he wanted, but his body certainly did, and he followed the man without complaint. He was led through a door at the back of the club and then along a corridor. The music faded to a low, pulsing beat. They stopped outside the toilets, and Mycroft couldn’t help wrinkling his nose up in distaste. ‘No,’ he said simply. He had no intention of losing his virginity in a toilet cubicle.

‘Fussy,’ Greg teased, looking unsurprised. He hauled him in and kissed him briefly once more, before continuing down the corridor. 

At the end was a fire door, and Greg turned his back to it, opening it with a nudge of his arse and pulling Mycroft outside. They emerged into a dark alleyway, lined with broken bottles and worse. Rain was still crashing onto the pavement as they broke into a run. Before they reached the end of the alleyway, Greg guided him into an alcove where they were sheltered and partially hidden. Shaking off the uncomfortable feeling that Greg had been here before, Mycroft leaned back against the wall and let the man run his hands over his body. His suit had dried off in the heat of the nightclub and Greg seemed transfixed by it, caressing the silky fabric, tugging at the buttons, dipping his fingers beneath the collar. Mycroft rested his head against the cold bricks and watched, breathing heavily. Their eyes met and Greg let out a low groan before shoving forwards against him in a manner which Mycroft had not been at all prepared for.

Gasping at the weight, the heat, the intensity of the man’s attack, he grasped helplessly at the man’s jacket as lips landed on his neck. Before he had time to enjoy the scraping of teeth against his skin, Greg’s hand was on his belt, tugging at it roughly.

‘Gregory,’ Mycroft gasped, his own hands betraying him and reaching downwards to help.

‘Greg,’ Greg corrected, with a smile. He watched Mycroft undo his belt, before unbuckling his own. He pulled the leather strap loose from his faded jeans, throwing it onto the floor behind them. With nimble fingers, he undid the button and slid down the zip. Mycroft could make out a sliver of tanned flesh above the waistband of his underwear, upon which a trail of dark hair led tantalisingly downwards. He wanted to follow it with his tongue.

Mycroft had stopped after undoing his belt, watching Greg instead with an open mouth and lust filled eyes. Greg winked at him before moving in to help, tugging open his suit trousers and pushing them down. They fell in a pool around his ankles, and before Mycroft had time to be embarrassed, his underwear had joined them.

Greg looked down at him and smiled. ‘Very nice.’ He pushed his own underwear down far enough to pull out his cock.

Mycroft swallowed dryly, watching the man begin to rub at himself. Greg’s cock was longer and thicker than his own and he found himself staring in a way he didn’t think was polite.

Gregory stepped forwards, pressing them back together again and bucking his hips forward so that their erections slid together. Gripping his shoulders, Mycroft whimpered in pleasure. Greg’s lips landed back on his, eagerly swallowing the sounds he was making. The man began a steady rhythm, thrusting forwards into him as their tongues and teeth clashed.

Pulling away for breath, Mycroft felt Greg’s hands back on his now bare arse, squeezing and kneading at the sensitive flesh. The man used the grip in order to pull him in to meet his movements and the added pleasure became too much.

Mycroft cried out in surprised bliss and bit down into Greg’s neck as he came suddenly over the man’s stomach. He collapsed backwards against the wall as the last of the tremors racked through him, closing his eyes in embarrassment at the sound of Greg chuckling into his ear. The man took a step back, giving him space to recover and looked him up and down with renewed interest.

Eager to escape the man’s gaze, and of course, redeem himself, Mycroft sank to his knees. Once there, things didn’t seem quite so simple. He licked his lips nervously before beginning to press kisses to the hair trailing down Greg’s stomach, fulfilling his earlier fantasy.

Greg grunted slightly above him, and Mycroft felt fingers tangle in his hair. Opening his mouth, he began to lap at the skin before him, his heart beating heavily as the man’s erection pressed against his neck. He pulled back and wrapped his hand slowly around the length. Looking up, he saw Greg watching him intently. The hand on the back of his head pushed him encouragingly forward. Mycroft wrapped his lips around the head, sucking gently as he adjusted to the sensation. The flesh was hot and thick inside his mouth with a vaguely salty taste. A low groan was issued from above him, and he bobbed forwards, engulfing as much as he could of the man’s cock.

He tensed as Greg began to rock forwards into his mouth, fucking it in slow rhythmic movements. The man pressed in further, and Mycroft choked as the head of his cock hit the back of his throat.

‘Sorry,’ Greg muttered above him, pulling back. He opened his mouth as if to ask a question, but before he could start, Mycroft had lunged forwards and engulfed him once more.

He circled his tongue around the length inside him, working with his hand over what didn’t quite fit. Greg’s hand joined his, and the man began to jerk himself off into his mouth, panting slightly as he did so.

Gripping hold of Gregory’s hips, Mycroft lathered attention on the head of his cock, gaining confidence as the man began to moan above him. Greg tugged on his hair in warning, trying to pull him back, but he remained firmly in place. Swearing loudly above him, the older man pushed his head forwards once more and this time Mycroft managed to swallow. Greg’s entire body seemed to tense, and Mycroft peered up from beneath his lashes to see him throw his head back and cry out as he shot hot come down Mycroft’s throat.

‘Oh fuck,’ Greg growled, as he slipped free of Mycroft’s mouth who turned hurriedly away in order to spit what he could onto the pavement.

Resisting the urge to wipe his tongue on his jacket sleeve, Mycroft got shakily to his feet, pulling up his trousers as he moved.

‘Sorry,’ Greg said, sheepishly. He smirked, leaning in for a kiss. ‘I couldn’t help it. You were so innocent and virginal.’

‘I’m not a virgin,’ Mycroft protested, buckling his belt and avoiding the man’s eye.

‘Not anymore,’ Greg agreed cheerfully, sorting out his own clothing. He raised his hand for a high five and laughed at the sight of Mycroft’s expression.

‘Most amusing,’ Mycroft sniffed, smoothing his suit. Outside the alcove they had sheltered in, the rain had stopped and the sky was beginning to clear. Bright white stars shone down from amid the inky blackness. He shivered as a cold wind whipped around them.

‘Here,’ Greg had shrugged out of his leather jacket and was wrapping it around his shoulders. Ignoring Mycroft’s protests, he helped him into the sleeves, before drawing him in to kiss him again. Mycroft murmured contentedly into the kiss, his heart rate beginning to slow down. He entwined his shaky fingers in Greg’s hair and kissed him with passionate intensity. They stood there for several minutes, pressed against each other as they kissed. Greg’s hand stroked the skin on his cheek, as their lips melded seamlessly together.

‘Thanks,’ Mycroft mumbled as they eventually parted.

The man grinned delightedly and ruffled his hair. Wrapping an arm around Mycroft’s shoulder, he pulled him out of the alcove and into the night. Still smiling, he leaned forwards to murmur in his ear. His voice low and gentle, he asked, ‘Can I walk you home?’

**Author's Note:**

> [ ** Find more of my writing on Tumblr! ** ](http://drabblinginmystrade.tumblr.com)


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